I get mine from a 12 pound Russian. He’s not exactly my “type” but given the fucked up circumstances of the twisty turny road that is my life, I will take the biting, two-year old with whom I share my space but it’s not what I had in mind.
He’s the only cat I’ve had who thinks I’m the best play thing in the house. Sure he has toys. Yes I play with him multiple times daily. It’s never enough. He wants more than I have to give including skin.
Recently he injured himself on an outside jaunt. Ten stitches, a good sized vet bill and a couple weeks got him back to normal. But my window screens will never be the same. I’ll replace them whenever we move on from here.
He’s back to his astroturf life of indoor outdoor fun. Fun for him, that is. I can’t help but wonder what will he get himself into next but for now, all is fair in catland.
